Home Remedies
by danglingdingle
Summary: Poor feverish Will withers bedridden, while Jack makes all effort to aid his matelot's ailments the best he knows how. With a twist. Jack/Will slash


Title: Home Remedies  
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Will  
Rating: G  
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Disney et al. I get no compensation from using them here, nor is infringement intended.  
A/N: 850 words for the old jackwill prompt '_Superstition_' at LiveJournal Mucho supersized thankies to mamazano for beta and belief.

Home Remedies

"Found another one!" The cheerful announcement came through the cabin door, bringing with it a pleased man holding a jar of jam with a spoon sticking out of it in one hand, and pinching something between the fingers of the other.

A bottle in his pocket bobbed in time with the man's sway, as he strode excitedly to the bed where the fever-ridden patient eyed the pinched _thing_ with unconcealed suspicion, and an alarmingly growing distrust in Jack's expertise in the matters of medicinal remedies.

A spider, caught in a nutshell, wrapped tight with a blue woolen thread, which had been Jack's first attempt to cure Will's fever, had been gently seated on Will's chest with orders to '_keep it right there_', only to be surreptitiously tucked away under Will's pillow the very second the door had closed after Jack, who'd launched to chase yet another brilliant idea and gone on a hunt for a fresh arachnid.

Will's hearty assurances that he was feeling much better already had landed on deaf ears, as Jack's worry, masterfully masked and covered with a flurry of outstandingly superstitious remedies, their action giving him at least the feel of trying. Something. Anything.

Said worry was still easily found shadowing Jack's face as he examined Will from his vantage - Will's red, burning cheeks and the unhealthy gleam of his bleary eyes belayed the hint of relief that Will's sweat-damp chest had given as an indication of the fever finally abating.

Then Jack noticed something missing.

The inquisitive, accusing lift of Jack's brow was implication enough that the nutshell amulet better emerge from its hiding right this moment, or else, resulting in Will digging it out with a weary, reluctant tiny moan of severe, largely embellished, anguish and plopping it unceremoniously back on his chest.

Satisfied, Jack propped the jam on the bed and scooped up a spoonful, planted his treasured alternative cure on top of it, and poked the grayish pill-shaped _thing_ into the glob with his finger.

Will, after feverishly, in all senses of the word, wracking his muddled brain for an escape, and finding all sides effectively blocked either by well-meaning Jack, and his own feeble state, where even standing up sounded like a colossal effort, closed his eyes briefly, bracing himself, and looked up to meet the concern in Jack's eyes.

With an inward sigh, Will opened his mouth, but clamped it shut as quickly, glancing at Jack's pocket hopefully, and managed to utter in a gruffy, silent voice. "Would you?"

Shocked by him forgetting such an essential part of the procedures, Jack hastily plucked the bottle out, opened it deftly by popping the cork off with his thumb, and now offered the spoonful of the cobweb-and-spider- flavored jam, together with the tasty drink of rum to wash it down with - a concoction Jack himself swore by…

Not that he, by any means, remembered the last time he'd taken ill…

"Ready?"

Will closed his eyes and smiled at Jack's tone, touched by the deep caring encompassed in a single word.

Opening his mouth again obediently, hand ready to grab the bottle, Will only nodded with his eyes squeezed shut tightly, and was instantly fed the alleged remedy, immediately followed by the feel of glass on his palm, and the flaming burn in his sore throat as Will took huge gulps of the rum, shuddering from head to toe as he rinsed the _thing_ down.

Handing the bottle back to Jack with a grunt and a grimace, Will flopped back against his pillows peering at Jack through half-lidded eyes, "No more spiders, Jack. Promise me."

To Will's great surprise, Jack spread into a wide, mischievous grin, shed his coat and boots, and slithered himself to lay next to Will, all under the scrutiny of Will's increasing apprehension.

The air laden with impish silence, Jack eased his arm behind Will's neck, arranged the covers to meet Will's need, and after making sure he was comfortably resting against Jack's chest, Jack swept the stray, sweat-damp curls behind Will's ear, stroking his hand down to caress the man's shoulder soothingly.

Had Will been able to muster the energy to do anything more than groan in response to Jack's meticulously made, silent, honest confession - thick with terribly hidden amusement - "No, Willow, no more spiders. We've no butter left, I'm out of silly, superstitious beliefs, and besides, the quinine in the rum should do the trick in no time," Will would've at least bitten Jack for revenge.

Wavering between sleep and wake, Jack's hands gently lulling him to slumber as they held him warm through the returning agues, Will swore, snuggling contentedly deeper into Jack's lap, that he'd get even one day.

Although, as went Will's last thought before dream took him, it _could_ be that the spiders were getting even for Jack, possibly because of that little incident with Will curing Jack's sore throat by convincing him to wear a woolen sock around his throat. Filled with earthworms. Three days straight and onto the fourth… Right until Jack had discovered the willow bark in his tea.

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A/N2: All remedies mentioned in the story have really been in use as the history of medicine has folded.


End file.
